A Tale of Two Cities (Re-written)
by Whovian-CapitolGirl
Summary: Caesar Flickerman is waiting to escape President Snow's evil clutches. Emily Everdeen just wants to protect her family, and to escape the ghosts of her past. But what will happen when two dead souls meet? Will they fall apart? Or will two abstracted phantoms finally learn to love again?
1. Chapter 1

A Tale of Two Cities

Chapter 1- Love at first sight

I sat impatiently, my hands tapping the oak table in front of me, when I saw it. On the huge flat screen above my head, a girl with long, auburn hair and a sky blue dress was running towards the stage, pushing a small blonde girl behind her. There had been rumours, but until now I hadn't actually believed it! A young volunteer from District 12 was now famous all through the Capitol! DISTRICT 12! FAMOUS! Unbelievable. Their first volunteer. And it was a young girl called Katniss Everdeen. I must admit though, she was one brave, brave soul, protecting her sister like that. Half of the people in Panem would mourn and then move on. A quarter of them would volunteer so that they would get their parents approval and not their sibling. But volunteering to protect her sister‽‽ Now **that** was something unexpected.

I saw her little sister getting pulled away from the Peacekeepers, tears pouring down her face. The man that carried her looked strong, a relative I think. The resemblance was good enough. He had the light grey eyes, the same athletic, hunter-like build as Katniss. At first glance, I thought they were siblings. But, looking carefully I could see slight change in build and actions that show other-wise. The shape of his nose, his strong arms and broad shoulders were different. Whereas Katniss was flittering towards the stage like a mockingjay, he was built like a predator, soaring through the crowd, a strong grip on his prey and a grim expression on his face. There's no doubt he'd be a career if he got reaped. Although, if he is as protective as he looks to be, the Careers wouldn't stand a chance, no matter **who **volunteered.

The child's mother was now weeping, her heart-wrenching sobs only making the girl in the man's arms cry harder. I almost cried myself, watching the little girl (Primrose? Yeah, Primrose) being pulled into a sobbing woman's arms. She was gorgeous. Even whilst crying, her eyes shone like lapis lazuli. It was obvious that she had the heart of an angel. It was tragic that people like her are being abused in this excruciating manner. Why does Snow do this? Torture everyone in Panem for his own entertainment? It's disgusting. But unfortunately, nobody can speak their mind here. Snow rules over Panem like Hitler ruled Germany in the folktales of the 'Old World'. In war and in pain.

"Mr Flickerman? We're ready for your commentary with Mr Crane," a voice said from behind the mahogany door as I jumped out of my skins. It's almost as if they know when somebody is defying him. I cringed pitifully at the thought of it. It's not unlikely. "Hurry UP Flickerman!" Claudius Templesmith shouts through the door. Damn Templesmith, he's such a lapdog. HE's oh so perfect, always following Crane's beck and call. "I'm coming!" I exclaimed sharply. I hate having to laugh and pretend to joke with him. The ignorant little sheep hasn't had an original idea since the day he was born. Ah well. I once again plastered the fake blue smile on my face, reapplied that ridiculous white makeup and walked out the door.

"Hello and welcome, people of Panem, to the 74th Annual Hunger Games! I'm Caesar Flickerman, and right beside me here is my co-host, Claudius Templesmith, and this year's Gamemaker, Seneca Crane. So Seneca, what is your opinion on the Hunger Games themselves?" I ask, grinning emotionlessly.

"Well Caesar, I think it's our tradition. The Hunger Games come out of a particularly painful part of our history," he starts.

"Yes, yes, definitely," Templesmith murmurs. Like I said previously, not a single thought of his own.

"But," Seneca continues, "It's been the way we've been able to heal. At first, it was a reminder of the rebellion; it was a price the districts had to pay. But I think it has grown from that, I think it's uh…something that knits us all together."

The audience claps and practically roars out their agreement. But of course they agree. They don't have to watch their children, their sisters, their brothers, get killed year after year without repentance. They don't have to watch as the sole victor then goes back home, only to fall to the nightmares that eat away at their very soul, collapsing in on their guilt, until all that is left is an empty shell, who then has to relive their horrors again and again, as they train their tributes, like pigs for slaughter.

I push back such apostate thoughts, and as the crowd finally calms down, I continue the interview. "So, Seneca, this is your third year as Gamemaker. What defines your personal signature?"

"Well Caesar, I like to think that all of the games I have conducted, and all of my future games, are special. All Gamemakers add a twist, something that makes the tributes remember **why** they are here. I like to take a look at the tributes for the year, and then analyse them. Find out their strengths, their weaknesses, and I like to play on them all. Of course, during training sessions I will tweak the arena slightly, and then I will do it again during the actual games. But, Caesar, Claudius, I like it up-close and **personal**." Templesmith and I both laugh with Seneca at this, but only one of us is sincere in our joy.

"Forgive me if I sound sadistic, but I love to see the look on the tributes faces when they realise that something has happened that can affect them and them only. I love seeing the agony on their faces as they realise that I know all of their deepest, darkest secrets, and when they realise that I have and continue to use them. It's brutal, but then again, aren't all of the people who go into the Hunger Games? I just help them to embrace the vicious, ruthlessness inside of them, so that they stand a better chance at winning. After all, a tribute who expects everything cannot be surprised."

The crowd goes wild again, and Templesmith throws his head back and thunders with laughter. He shakes Seneca's hand and then turns to the balcony at the back of the stage. He gestures to President Snow. "Well Seneca, you are doing a marvellous job! If you weren't you wouldn't be here!" Templesmith roars out. Snow inclines his head in a small, yet noticeable nod, and holds up his glass as the camera focuses on him for his reply. He smirks sinisterly before downing the rest of his drink, and motioning for his Avox to get him another. I can barely take any more of this barbarity. They are all sick.

"Well folks, that's all for now. Stay tuned in for the Tribute parade, and our thoughts on this year's tributes. Goodnight!" Templesmith hollers and the lights go out. Finally! I really need a drink…

**A/N: I'm busy re-writing all of the chapters in this story in a probably vain attempt to get more reviews. If there's anything you would like to see in the story, or if there's any suggestions, please review or PM me xxx**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: To Guest: Thank you! I hope I can continue the level of writing that the first chapter is at. Your review helped me finish this chapter; it really drove me on knowing that someone was actually reading my stuff. Thank you! **_

Chapter 2-Friend in need

"Now the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and woman for the honour of representing District 12 in the 74th annual Hunger Games. As usual, ladies first." Effie takes off her gloves and dips her hand into the reaping bowl. She moves her hand around a bit, and then swiftly plucks a slip of sealed paper from the ceremonial bowl.

"Primrose Everdeen!" I feel the ice spreading through my heart. "No," I whisper. It can't be Prim. Anybody but Prim. Effie looks around excitedly. "Where are you dear?" The girls near Prim step back, and I see her tuck in the back of her shirt, mimicking Katniss' earlier actions. I start to shake as she moves out of the crowd and into the gap separating boys from girls. "Well? Come on up!" Effie smiles. Prim hesitates. Oh god. "Well, come on up!" Effie repeats, smiling and stretching out her hand as Prim slowly starts to walk up to the stage. I feel my eyes well up with tears, as my knees grow weak in panic, and I start to crumble to the floor.

"Prim! PRIM!" Katniss screams, the anguish breaking her voice. Four Peacemakers surround Prim, and two of them grab Katniss as she tries to grab for Prim, attempting to pull her from out of harm's way. "No! NO!" Katniss roughly shoves the guards off of her and yells out, "I volunteer!" Prim starts to scream. "I volunteer as tribute!"

Prim falls and grabs Katniss fiercely, as cries out, "No! No! NO!"

Katniss starts to cry, but holds Prim and tells her, "You need to get out of here!"

"NO! NO!"

"Go find mom!

"NO!"

"PRIM. Go find mom!"

"NO! No!" Prim howls, and I fall to the floor at the pain in my daughters' voices. I start to black out, but cling passionately to my consciousness, trying to hold on, for Prim, for Katniss.

"I'm so sorry," Katniss whimpers, and Gale picks up Prim and carries her away from Prim. He catches my eye in the crowd, and nods, looking so strong, yet I can see the tears in his eyes.

Katniss approaches the stage and I grab hold of Gale, sobbing. 

I feel warm, supportive arms wrap around me as I shake, and a small hand worms its way into mine. "She WILL get out Mrs Everdeen. I know she will." Gale reassures me, yet I can hear the quiver in his voice. No amount of reassurance could stop my body from quaking. I lift Prim into my arms, crushing her to my chest, desperately trying to prove to myself that at least one of my babies are here, and out of harm's way. "I wish this wasn't happening Gale."

"I know Mrs Everdeen. Me too…"

I feel a tear drop from his cheek and land on my shoulder, soaking straight through my thin coat. "Please don't cry. Like you said before, we shouldn't worry. God knows Katniss is strong enough," I whisper though we both know I am fooling nobody in the town square. Prim burrows closer to me, as impossible as it seems, and she clings to me harder. Poor Prim. There is no way she is sleeping tonight, especially after her nightmare last night. "It's going to be fine little duck. Everything is going to be just fine." But I feel the boiling inferno of blood rush to my cheeks as the dead voice of my own sister chants in my head, "Liar, liar." Nothing is going to be fine. Everything is going wrong.

MY life wasn't supposed to be like this. I was promised I'd be safe. We'd be safe. He told us that he'd keep us safe, as compensation for what had happened. And look where that got me. I was slowly losing everything that was keeping me sane, everything that preventing me from falling into the dark, welcoming bliss of insanity. At least that would stop the nightmares. And hopefully the voices. My dead husband yelling at me once more for failing our children. My little duck, scared and alone, waiting for Katniss to come home so that she'd have someone who she wanted to talk to. My soon-to-be-dead daughter, blaming me for her imminent death, and not to mention taunting me for my temporary lapse, for my provisional depression. And all that was left here, the only person who could keep me grounded here until my daughter returned, was Gale, her friend in need.

_**A/N: I managed to finish this chapter quite quickly compared to the trouble I'm having with the rest. So don't expect an update as fast as this for a while. I know I made Mrs Everdeen extremely OC, but it'll fit in with the story, promise. **_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- The flame's beginning

(3 days into the 74th Hunger games)

"Well it's been three days people. We are starting to run out of contestants – there's only half of them left! I think we can safely say that this is the fastest we have ever gotten down to the half-mark. But, just in case you've forgotten, here is a list of the remaining participants!

From District 1- Glimmer and Marvel

From District 2- Cato and Clove

From District 3- (Male)

From District 4- (female)

From District 5- (female)

From District 10- (male)

From District 11- Rue and Thresh

From District 12- Katniss and Peeta!"

The crowd goes wild the mention of the girl on fire and the little lover boy. I look at Templesmith. We both know the audience isn't going to quiet any time soon.

"So who have you placed YOUR bets on?" Templesmith shouts into the microphone.

"Well, with half the tributes wiped out, I believe that Katniss Everdeen has the strongest hope, especially with Peeta leading the careers' camp away from her! I think this may finally end in a District 12 victor! I'm sure Haymitch gets awful lonely in his drunken stupor. And you never know, we could be witnessing the flame's beginning!" I shout back, with a smile.

"Oh I disagree, Caesar!" Templesmith buts in with a smirk. Or course he would choose now to finally discover that there is actually something lodged inside the (previously thought empty) space in between his ears. A conflicting belief would only get more people to sponsor. "Personally, I think that it's Cato that will win. I mean look, he has Glimmer and Clove wrapped around his glorious biceps, and I think we both know that he would beat Marvel in a fight! And against him, your little 'flame' doesn't stand a chance!" I glare at him subtly. He smirks once again and continues, "But we can't know yet Caesar!" " However, **you **can help us to get our winner!" Templesmith says, now addressing the audience, "Remember to sponsor your favourite tributes aannnddd:"

"May the odds be ever in your favour!" I finish for him, grinning wildly as the director yells cut and the lights on the stage fade. Once they have gone off fully, I stand and storm from the stage and the set, and the teal-blue smile melts from my overly-made-up face.

Finally! I just cannot stand this life of fear and 'hope'. I can't wait for this to end. Maybe then President Snow will let me go. Maybe I'll be able to settle down, make a new life, maybe even a family! I reach the buffet table and sneer when I see Templesmith return from the toilets with an empty vial, which oh so obviously contained the puking-poison. He grins madly, and reaches for the turkey. He tears into it ruthlessly and I gag at his lack of manners. He sees my reaction and proceeds to chew louder and faster, yelling at his avox to get him another drink.

After a half an hour of my torture, I realise that I need to be back on set soon. "Pfft," I sigh, whilst my avox reapplies my blue lipstick and re-powders my nose. She looks at me and gives a limp half-smile, conveying her agreement at the situation we are both in. "Thank you Lavinia." I say, giving her a weak smile. She gestures to smile big, and when I do, she nods and gracefully walks to the side of the room, her red hair bouncing softly at her shoulders. She then waits cautiously for me to finish once more, so she can do it all over again. Poor girl. Stolen from her home, her family killed, her friend tortured. And all the while she was forced to watch and then she was sent to the capitol to spend the rest of her life as a mute. I pity her. I pity them all. We don't need slaves! Snow has made sure we've got enough in the Districts. If I had the chance, I'd set them all free. Give them hope. Give them a voice. Well, maybe, one day, it'll happen, but God knows that day won't be coming any time soon. SO until then, I must bide my time, and wait for my opportunity, for the perfect time to strike, and free Panem from President Snow's reign of madness.

_**A/N: I intentionally added a small error in this chapter. The first person to guess it correctly will get a cookie and a character in one of my fanfics of their choice. Trust me when I say that this tiny little error will separate the fangirls from the wannabes. **____** Happy Hunting my pretties!**_


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